Memories
by exit-the-fall
Summary: Drabble. Miharu's previously resilient mind comes undone in reluctant quiet moments of solitude and even months after Yoite's erasure, time won't cease the stabs of emptiness that creep upon him in his times of loneliness.


**A/N: This is my first one-shot and I'm extremely nervous to be finally uploading something on this site when I've had an account for three years. This is taken about two years after the manga, so for some this might have spoilers throughout it. **

**Surprisingly enough, I tend to write longer stories than this, and I tried very hard to not write a one-shot. This fandom is riddled with them. But this idea came to me and I wrote it, halfheartedly deciding to finish it. I hope it doesn't seem too aimless or anything. If you want to tell me what you think, reviews are always welcomed and highly appreciated! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the people, places or events mentioned; all are the property of Yuhki Kamatani.**

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_Memories_

From the foggy glass window, ivory snow could be seen in a pristine, thick blanket across the crowded city. It covered every corner and crack that littered the land with new, fresher snow coming in, steadily rebuilding the veil of white in the footsteps that were blindly created by strangers milling through. The darkening grey sky melded in silently with the landscape, the quietness and peacefulness giving way to a melancholy semblance.

It all seemed so familiar and held a sentiment of… _closeness_ to his apathetic emerald eyes, as he stood by the window with a mug of hot, steamy lemon cider. The contents of the mug nearly began to burn him, but Miharu couldn't feel that harmful sensation. There wasn't anything to feel.

Miharu knew as he was standing there in the hush air of Yukimi's vacant apartment, it was returning, bearing its jagged teeth and malicious claws outstretched.

_It_.

The return was instinctively consoling; accepted blindly and effortlessly given domination once more.

Yukimi was out attending to errands (Miharu guessed he should have gone along with him, but now it was a bit too late for thinking such things) and he was left to vegetate alone in the flat. The older man brought Yoi with him too. Of course. He had to take the cat. Miharu turned abruptly from the wintry window and shivered, walking from the location he stood the whole while the blond Kairoushuu ninja had been gone.

The very last time he'd been in a delicate snowfall like today's was an instance in Miharu's life he could positively say was the best day in his short sixteen years of life. And it would also be by far his very worst.

That was the day he and Yoite sat close together out in the bitter frosty weather, the warmth from the older boy providing him with determination enough to protest Yoite's predestined departure. That was the day they held hands securely despite the blue-eyed boy's imperceptible, wavering breaths. Yoite was wearing his gloves as he always had, but all the same.

Their hands touched, were linked together in a way they never before had been and Miharu liked it. Even now he was able to feel their interwoven fingers if he closed his eyes. He didn't have to think very hard either. The images of Yoite's last moments of life in his arms were as vivid and debilitating as the seconds they transpired.

That was the day Miharu laid his head down on Yoite's chest and finally felt his slowing heartbeat that, regardless of his dwindling life, screamed_ "I'm alive"_ to him. The constant proof of life that was so often overlooked by Yoite himself was louder than Miharu's deafeningly rapid heartbeat pounding away in his numb ears. That was the day when he had voiced his concealed yearning to stay with Yoite. _Forever_, Miharu had admitted in a tremor.

His slender fingers clutched his chest, his knuckles becoming white and the mug in his hands shaking so fiercely, he had to place it down and take a deep breath to battle the stinging behind his eyes.

_Don't cry._

That was also the day Yoite had tenderly caressed his cheeks in undivided appreciation for the pleasure they shared in one another's company. Miharu's eyes welled up with tears in that moment, his evergreen gaze locked to the other's pale face in sorrow. Yoite had then proceeded to kiss him quietly on his forehead. His lips were so soft, Miharu reminisced, managing an agonized smile. Soft and warm.

The kiss allowed him to fleetingly forget the Kira-user was mere seconds from death and caused him to wait just a minute too long, a moment too late. Yoite passed away on a day when it snowed like this; the sort of day he breathed his very last breath. It was Miharu's last day alive as well. However, that was a secret.

Yukimi had lost his left arm in an attempt to be a decoy for the pair to escape the clutches of Kairoushuu's Kasa. Miharu made _everyone_ lose _everything_, even if for only a short time. People's lives were devastated and the chances of things being brought back the way they were successfully with no repercussions were slim to none at all. He could have been killed and was fully conscious of that, though he trudged forward and used the Shinrabanshou rather naturally, considering the complexity and promise of death it harbored.

The single hesitation he had felt gnawing at him relentlessly then was still unbeknown to him today and continued to ache even while the uncertainty gradually perished. Nevertheless, he had done that awfully unattainable task and that phase of his life had come and gone hauling its own callous dilemmas. In all likelihood, if Miharu had to do that day over again, right here and right now, he could almost promise each instant would remain unaltered from that time.

Shinra's gone and Yoite's gone. And with _her_ gone in a different sense of the word _eternity_ than Yoite's, _he's_ never coming back. It was absolutely unfeasible. But that was what he aspired desperately, at that fragile point in time two years ago and presently. Miharu desired Yoite. The significance of plainly _wanting_ was unfamiliar, unnecessary and outright denied when questioned.

Even so, he deemed everything they experienced had only fortified his newfound longing and there was a physical agony united within it; overwhelmingly foreboding from the bottomless, unreachable part of his progressively destabilizing mind. That was a concealed secret too he would not dare utter, even in weakness.

Miharu had realized he was very selfish; very far from altruistic to say the least, purely as he wishedfor, pleaded for the precise opposite of that which he pledged. He remained to be the most self-absorbed person he knew and he comprehended it then as it merely strengthened now with each passing second. Though, he never thought twice pertaining to the actions of granting the wish despite his heart's literal destruction in its fulfillment.

But that was all okay and it's been long enough for him to grow comfortable with the older boy's absence. Or rather, he's grown used to the void and discovered how to disregard it. He wasn't always successful against the unhappy thoughts and feelings that crept upon him, yet that was to be expected.

It still hurt and Miharu couldn't imagine a day where it wouldn't. He simply has to strive a bit harder than before to remember how to smile. Although, Yoite was happy, and it was wrong of him to think of the blue-eyed boy in the way he did. Yoite didn't want to stay and he isn't here. What handed Miharu the right to wonder about his own wishes? It wasn't part of the promise; the promise Yoite needed to be the ticket out of his life, for without it, he feared Yoite would have found the will to remain with him.

Now wasn't the time to start remorse nonsense. That was felt, recognized and accepted, though it consistently tormented him. He craved to feel regret, just to feel _something; _close the gate of indifference ceaselessly and feel anything in place of feeling unconditional nothingness. Emptiness was petrifying, yet why is it all he wanted? Miharu took a breath once more and his closed his tearing eyes, thrusting the thoughts far away, nausea rising in his stomach.

_Not now. Not ever. When he hurts, forget him._

That day. That moment, that hour, those seconds. Cloudy, cold, wet, snowy, white. And misery and tears and pleads and thank-yous and goodbyes and death. No Merry Christmas, no Happy New Year, and a plan for the future that was never to occur; just darkness and quiet regret leisurely slaughtering his mind.

Miharu should have turned a blind-eye, overlooked the anguish in his heart and moved on readily, contentedly, smiling, as Yoite desired him to, whispering in his final breath beneath his chin.

"I don't want to let you go," Miharu whispered. That was the day snow fell like this. And it would always be everyday the snow fell like this.


End file.
